


you're all i want, so bring me the dawn

by iPhone



Series: now i see daylight [10]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Pregnancy, References to Miscarriage, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: One morning out of many with Beca and Chloe.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: now i see daylight [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625614
Comments: 39
Kudos: 190





	you're all i want, so bring me the dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asimplefavor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimplefavor/gifts).



> Fic title from "Need the Sun to Break" by James Bay. For Chloe because this is our lil universe. For everybody else because I haven't written smut in a while. Hi.

**Age: 28/29**  
**Month: February**  
**Location: Los Angeles**

* * * * *

Beca is momentarily disoriented when she awakens. She can tell it is morning, that much is apparent. The sun floats through half-opened curtains in lazy light beams. A smile twitches across her lips at the thought of the light reflecting her mood so ardently. It is a rare day that she does not have to go into the studio—a rare day off from a hectic schedule. With preparing for a potential tour, working on more music, and overseeing another artist’s album production...things have been a little rough recently.

Her hand twitches over her belly, just over where Chloe’s hand is possessively holding her even in sleep. Beca instinctively moves her hand to rub over the very slight bump that is only really evident to those familiar to her own body.

So herself and Chloe, really.

Beca waits for the pang of pain that usually accompanies her morning musings. She is officially past the point of where her last pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. In another few short months, she will be at the two-year mark since the miscarriage and steps closer to meeting the newest member of her and Chloe’s family.

Speaking of—

Beca grumbles, quickly realizing that Chloe’s arm is moving from where it had been draped around her waist. And not in a fun, tightening her hold kind of way. Chloe’s arm is moving _away_ from her. Beca twists, staring at Chloe with reproachful eyes. As reproachful as she can make them, anyway, at about—she turns to glance at the clock on her bedside—”Six a.m.?” Beca sighs, draping her forearm over her eyes. “Chloe,” she whines. Chloe tugs playfully at her arm, causing Beca to huff and blink away sleep as best as she can while Chloe props herself up on her elbow to hover slightly above her.

“Go back to bed, lazy. I know you have today off.”

Beca pouts, zeroing in on the way Chloe’s eyes flick down to her lips. “Can’t _you_ take today off too?” Beca fingers the loose plaid shirt Chloe has favored for her pajama top this time. She attempts a smirk, flicking open the button, loosening it even more as half of it drapes over Chloe’s bare shoulder.

She _knows_ Chloe can’t take the day off. At least, not as liberally as Beca can at this point.

“The animals,” Chloe sighs, reaching up to press her thumb against Beca’s lower lip. “They need me. You know how it is.”

“ _I_ need you,” Beca rasps, heart already racing. She catches Chloe’s wrist as Chloe moves to pull away and slowly, with her eyes fixed on Chloe’s eyes, presses a slow, wanting kiss against the pad of Chloe’s thumb. Satisfied with the narrowing of Chloe’s eyes, Beca lets her girlfriend’s wrist go and makes herself further comfortable against their pillows. If the sheets happen to push below her hips, exposing her bare midriff (from where her own shirt has ridden up past her abdomen) to the morning air and Chloe’s increasingly-heated gaze, Beca isn’t complaining.

“You do?” Chloe intones. Beca sees the way Chloe’s gaze cuts distractedly to the time. She quickly reaches up to thumb open another button on Chloe’s shirt, marvelling at how much more skin is on display. She pushes her hand into the mostly-open shirt, shivering at the warmth and softness of Chloe’s skin. Chloe shivers too, maybe because of how cold Beca’s hand is (a frequent complaint), but if Beca lets herself hope, she sees the unmistakable desire in Chloe’s eyes. She is proven right mere moments later when she sneakily moves her hand up to gently cup Chloe’s breast, feeling a pebbled nipple beneath her palm. And again, proven right when Chloe’s breath quickens and she rasps, “Tell me how much you need me.”

It’s one of _those_ mornings, Beca supposes. The immediate, distinct command in Chloe’s tone makes Beca swallow. Her fingers tense against Chloe’s skin and she shuffles ever so slightly closer, blinking up at her girlfriend as alluringly as she can with her tired morning eyes.

“I miss you when you’re gone,” Beca murmurs. She moves her hand slowly from Chloe’s chest up to her collarbone, up her neck, momentarily detouring to her girlfriend’s jaw, then back around to the hair at the back of her neck. She tugs insistently, pouting when Chloe playfully resists.

“Hm,” Chloe hums, eyes slipping shut as she allows Beca to tug her into a slow kiss.

Beca is still exhausted, never one for mornings, but she begins to lose herself in the kiss soon enough. Chloe is an incredible kisser, always able to coax Beca into specific moods as she desires. A tilt of her head here and there, igniting passion as always in Beca’s chest. A swipe of her tongue across Beca’s lower lip, and Beca feels her thighs clench together. A twist of Chloe’s hand in her hair, tilting her head to accommodate the press of Chloe’s tongue into her mouth. Beca _knows_ she is instantly wet.

Beca whimpers, low and quiet as Chloe nips at her lower lip, drawing back with the tender flesh briefly between her teeth. Panting already, Beca feels marginally more awake—at least her _body_ feels more awake. She opens her eyes and focuses on the contemplative expression on Chloe’s face.

She loves and hates that expression.

“What?” she asks, trying not to sound too exasperated because she _knows_ she has Chloe on the hook now. She doesn’t know why Chloe insists on teasing her. It is then that she sees a glint of something else in Chloe’s eyes beyond the playfulness Beca is accustomed to seeing. Maybe a hint of worry. Or even just concern.

Chloe is as much aware of the date as she is—Chloe needs to feel her close as much as Beca does.

“Tell me what else you need from me,” Chloe mumbles before nipping a path down her neck. Even in the soft intonation of her voice, Beca hears the slight command. Chloe pushes lazily at Beca’s shirt, like she isn’t quite sure she wants to stay yet. Beca groans, arching her back as best as she can, knowing that Chloe’s hands will surely find their way to her breasts. Beca just aches for Chloe’s attention and she’ll take it in whatever form she gets...but now—now she needs Chloe’s hands on her; needs Chloe’s fingers in her.

“Touch me,” Beca mumbles. Chloe does not acquiesce right away. She rarely does. Beca simply waits and cards her fingers through Chloe’s hair as Chloe continues slowly kissing and nipping at her neck. “Please,” Beca grumbles, knowing that pleas only spur Chloe on.

Beca sighs, smiling when she feels Chloe’s hand finally sneak up her shirt, pushing it further up as she goes. More of her midriff and chest become exposed to the cool A/C’d room. Beca shivers, mostly because of Chloe’s ministrations.

“What else?” Chloe asks. No. _Demands_. Her voice is rough, as it is usually after sleep. But it is distinctly more awake than it had been five minutes ago. Ten minutes ago. Beca doesn’t want to look at the time to figure that out. Chloe’s face hovers above her again, lips just slightly pinker than usual. Maybe a little swollen. Beca grins a little at the sight, feeling marginally more awake.

Beca can play at this too.

“Your tongue,” Beca mumbles, gazing up at Chloe with half-lidded eyes. “Miss it.”

“Where?” Chloe asks, lifting a hand to grip Beca’s jaw gently. She leans in to kiss Beca, more tongue than anything else. It makes Beca forget momentarily what she had been about to say.

Instead she wraps her hand around Chloe’s wrist and drags Chloe’s hand down her body, past her belly, and down into the waistband of the soft cotton underwear she had opted to wear to bed. On instinct, Chloe’s fingers curl so she is pressing against her clit, both of them moaning into their shared kiss. Beca’s hips twitch upward, wishing more than anything that Chloe’s fingers could just slip downwards to press into her soaking, aching cunt.

“Here?” Chloe clarifies, breathless and wanting against Beca’s mouth. Beca nods quickly, her words lost in the next moan she lets out when Chloe’s fingers graze her entrance before just barely dipping inside. Beca resists from clamping her thighs together around Chloe’s hand. Instead, she nips at Chloe’s lip before obligingly spreading her legs further, inviting more of her girlfriend’s loving ministrations.

 _Hurry the fuck up, Chloe_ , Beca thinks, resisting the smirk that threatens to twitch across her lips as Chloe lifts from their kiss.

Chloe does not check the clock again, but there is a sudden determination in her movements as she quickly pulls the rest of the sheets off Beca’s legs, shoving them to the bottom of the bed. Beca thinks Chloe barely gets her underwear down all the way—feels them dangling off one ankle vaguely—before she is pushing Beca’s legs apart and settling between them.

 _This_ is Beca’s favorite part: she knows she has sufficiently caused Chloe to waste enough time that Chloe _knows_ she’s going to be late if she doesn’t help Beca get off.

It has worked every time and today is no exception.

“Chloe,” Beca mumbles, keeping a firm grip on the back of Chloe’s head. “Chloe, _please_ —oh _fuck_ —fuck, fuck—” Chloe’s tongue begins a persistent rhythm against her aching clit, trapped between Chloe’s lips. Chloe sucks, gently at first. Then, her kisses begin to deepen, like she is fully intent on making love to Beca’s cunt with her mouth. Slow, deep strokes of her tongue. Broad, sweeping strokes. Never lingering in one place too long. Open-mouthed kisses against every last bit of wet skin available to her.

Chloe’s hands are clasped, resting firmly on her lower belly, just above her hips. It is a gentle, but efficient way to press Beca’s hips down into the mattress and keep her in place while Chloe continues to slowly tongue at Beca’s centre. With each angle change that Chloe incorporates, her nose occasionally brushes against Beca’s clit.

Beca groans, head tilting back. She’s sure she’s still dreaming (an accurate feeling considering she’s dating Chloe Beale) and she can do nothing more than lift a still-lethargic arm up so she can tug at her own nipple desperately. The sharp twinge from her own fingers causes another thrum of pleasure to rush through her, ending somewhere between her legs, but also escaping from her mouth in a deep moan. Beca’s other hand, the one previously stagnant, tightens in Chloe’s hair, keeping her head steady between Beca’s legs.

She loves mornings like this. Somehow slow and rushed all at the same time. It’s why they specifically have earlier alarms. For when Beca’s desire for her girlfriend is too insatiable to let Chloe simply leave the bed and continue on with her morning. Or when Chloe wants the same from Beca. Both of them, ready for each other at any given moment.

That’s what it feels like, anyway. A reminder that they want each other as much as they always have, even as the years go on. _This_ morning in particular feels like it is more of a show of their closeness and intimacy as a couple. Beca reaches down to grab at Chloe’s clasped hands, holding on to them like an anchor.

Chloe moans too now, quieter and more reserved as her mouth is otherwise occupied. She begins to use her tongue to gently push and probe at Beca’s entrance, teasing at first. Then, her tongue stiffens, pushing and pulling. She seems to collect more and more of Beca’s wetness, letting out a pleased hum as she does so.

Beca’s orgasm creeps up on her. It coils within her and finally snaps after a flick of Chloe’s tongue against her clit. She gasps, shuddering as she does so. She manages to dislodge Chloe slightly, forcing Chloe to move her kisses upward—she notices the lingering kiss to her stomach—past her nipples and to her neck..

“I’m close, baby,” Chloe mumbles. Her breath is warm against Beca’s neck and her jaw. She eventually meets Beca’s lips in a soft, messy kiss, barely grazing her lips. Beca wants to do something more—wants to more firmly cradle Chloe’s hips between her legs; wants to slip her thigh between Chloe’s legs so Chloe can rock against her. Instead, she finds herself still trembling for a second longer, aching from the phantom sensation of Chloe’s lips and tongue and fingers between her legs. Chloe pants out a breath, taking a moment to kiss Beca again, this time a bit more thoroughly before she falls back, dazed as her hand works between her legs.

Beca groans, shaking her head. She _wants_ to be the one to be the source of Chloe’s pleasure. She needs this as much as Chloe does. Forcing her tired limbs into action, she drags herself up so she can crawl on top of Chloe, meeting her lips as she does so. She momentarily traps Chloe’s hand between them and the knowledge that Chloe’s fingers are moving inside of herself makes Beca’s hips rock down of their own accord, already desperate for more friction—more pressure. She misses those fingers—thinks they should be back inside _her_.

But she pushes the desperation aside for a moment to gently nudge Chloe’s hand out of the way, replacing it with her own. Easily, slowly, she slips her fingers inside Chloe, both of them moaning at the immediate sensation of fullness. Tightness. Beca uses her free hand to curl around the messy tendrils of Chloe’s hair as she continues to kiss her—to coax her into the orgasm that she knows her girlfriend wants and needs.

“I want to give you this,” she mumbles, words spilling from her mouth before she can stop herself.

Chloe moans, eyelids fluttering shut as her neck tilts back. The motion causes her to break from their kiss, her lips instead ghosting up Beca’s cheek and to her ear. Simultaneously, her hips rock up with purpose, wanting to feel more of Beca’s hand. Her fingers. “It’s so good, Bec,” Chloe mumbles, her words curling around the shell of Beca’s ear, hot breath and sultry voice coming together to force another shiver down Beca’s spine. “You’re so good.”

Beca _likes_ being told she’s good. She likes knowing that Chloe will be thinking about this all day while she’s at work. While she’s taking her shower and Beca has probably fallen back asleep for another hour. While she’s sitting in the heavy Los Angeles traffic.

She likes knowing that she possesses as much a part of Chloe as Chloe does of her.

And as wet as Chloe feels right now, her cunt taking Beca’s fingers in and out, in and out, Beca knows Chloe feels the same.

Chloe’s hand scrapes purposefully up her back, nails barely scratching at her skin. She repeats the motion twice before moving to grab Beca’s ass firmly, pulling her down against her thigh. Beca whimpers, stuttering in the rhythm she has going between Chloe’s legs. She gasps out a breath when Chloe pulls her down again, lifting her head to meet Chloe’s eyes.

“I’m—” Chloe’s lips part and no more words escape. Beca _loves_ watching Chloe come apart—loves knowing that she gets to see this. And only her. Nobody else for as long as Beca has a say in it. “I’m— _fuck_ , Beca, that’s so fucking good—” Beca curls her fingers, cutting off Chloe’s next words, whatever they would have been. Instead, a short, sharp cry is Beca’s reward and she is eager to collect. She keeps her fingers pressed tightly inside Chloe, marvelling at the incredibly hot, wet flesh surrounding her own skin. Chloe hand quickly comes down to curl around Beca’s wrist, keeping her in place for a few moments longer before Chloe relaxes. Her entire body seems to unclench as she lets out a long breath.

Beca shifts, rolling off Chloe’s body. She kind of immediately wants to roll back over and make sure Chloe really can't leave, but that would probably be a little selfish. Maybe a little.

Beca is still debating wrapping her body around Chloe's once more when Chloe groans again, kicking off her underwear as she does so. “You’re insatiable," Chloe whispers, a playful tinge to her voice. "I know what you're thinking."

Beca frowns. “ _You’re_ insatiable.”

What follows is Chloe immediately pulling her in and tickling her. More time to roll around in bed together, laughing together.

It is so incredibly simple, but Beca will never take it for granted.

"It's the _hormones_ ," Beca tries to explain indignantly through giggles. She loves this feeling—the feeling of being so incredibly happy that she doesn't even _want_ to go back to bed. 

"Sure," Chloe says, prodding her side once more. "We'll see how long you use _that_ excuse. I seem to remember one time in high—"

Beca cuts her off with a kiss, opting for some quiet making-out time instead. She doesn't need to be reminded.

Finally, with a sigh, Chloe extracts herself from the warmth of Beca’s hold and starts her day.

“I love waking up like this,” Beca mumbles, even though her eyes are quickly drooping again. She thinks Chloe giggles or says something in return, but it’s hard to really make out much beyond the soft, pleasant buzzing in her head. She forces herself to keep her eyes open to watch Chloe reluctantly drag herself out of bed. She smiles tiredly knowing she will have to take a shower immediately after Chloe finishes, but for now, she contentedly pulls Chloe’s discarded plaid sleep shirt into her chest, wrapping it around her fist so she can press her nose against the distinct scent embedded in it.

She dozes off. At least, she thinks she does.

When Beca’s eyes flutter open again, she thinks Chloe is pressing a kiss against her cheek, one hand in her hair, stroking gently, and the other against her belly in a gentle, loving hold.

“I love waking up to you,” Chloe murmurs, lips soft against Beca’s cheek. “I love you.”

Beca smiles, unsure if she’s dreaming or not. Chloe’s shirt is still tightly pressed against her chest. Regardless, whether she's dreaming or awake, the sentiment remains the same so she speaks aloud, letting her words float to whatever version of Chloe might be listening: “Love you too.”


End file.
